


the space between the things you know

by countingpaperstars



Category: Carole & Tuesday (Anime)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23495320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingpaperstars/pseuds/countingpaperstars
Summary: The universe feels stuffed inside her ribs, like each breath is full of stardust. Tuesday looks at Carole and wonders if she feels the same.Post episode 12.
Relationships: Tuesday Simmons/Carole Stanley
Comments: 12
Kudos: 115





	the space between the things you know

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write something for these two ever since the series came out and I finally sat down and did it. These girls are so sweet and deserve the world.
> 
> Title is from Beside You by Marianas Trench.

There’s a certain loneliness to sleeping alone. Tuesday thought she’d known loneliness before, trapped in a big, empty house with no prospects ahead of her. But, that was nothing compared to the ache she felt after losing what she’d gained. She’d spent a week tossing and turning in bed, unable to slip into dreams, and now… to be back in Carole’s apartment was almost too good to be true.

They go through their nightly routine, brushing their teeth side by side in the small mirror. How many hours had they spent here? All the time spent laughing and talking, towels atop their heads like dollops of ice cream. Tuesday remembers soaking in the tub, leaning her cheek on her hands and watching Carole preen in front of the mirror. How long had she watched her with fond admiration tucked warm behind her ribs?

The day feels like a dream. Mars Brightest is over and done, Tuesday’s empty house left far behind. Here she was, with Carole again.

When they finish, Tuesday hesitates by the couch. A flipbook of nights flits through her mind, all the times they passed out, sheet music strewn across the floor. She jumps when Carole takes her hand. It’s soft in her grip.

Without a word, she leads Tuesday up the stairs, letting go to slip into bed. She holds up the blanket in invitation, and Tuesday follows her under the sheets.

There’s a certain loneliness to sleeping alone, and Tuesday didn’t notice Carole’s spot next to her until it was gone.

It’s a small bed. Tuesday has to scoot close to avoid falling on the floor. It’s dark enough that Carole’s barely visible – the curve of her shoulder, the glint of her eyes. The space between them burns.

It’s the same as that time, not so long ago, when Carole leaned in to put Tuesday’s lipstick on for her, tube held with steady hands. She’d looked so intent, eyes never straying as she carefully outlined the bow of Tuesday’s lips. 

Tuesday’s eyes drop now, watching Carole’s mouth part around her words. “I missed you,” she says.

It feels weighted, but the words sit light in Tuesday’s chest. She sucks in a breath, then reaches out. Her hand doesn’t have far to go before bumping into Carole’s. The twining of their fingers comes naturally, like the tumblers of a lock clicking into place. Tuesday wonders if she’s ready to open the door, to cross that threshold.

“I missed you, too.”

It had been too hard to articulate – that acute pain that came from being separated. Tuesday had composed and deleted a hundred text messages, guilty and ashamed of failing Carole. Maybe she’s better off, Tuesday had thought, without that baggage weighing her down. She can’t find the space to think that now. Tuesday squeezes Carole’s hand tight.

“I was so afraid,” she says. She doesn’t specify of what. She doesn’t need to.

Carole reaches out with her free hand to wipe beneath Tuesday’s damp cheek. “It’s okay,” she says. “You’re here now.”

Yes, she’s here now, tucked safe in Carole’s bed holding her hand like a lifeline. Tuesday feels hidden away from the harsh realities of the world. She realizes she doesn’t have much experience in that department; that she’s grown up knowing privilege. She makes an effort to be considerate of Carole’s experience – so different, yet so similar. She hopes Carole feels safe here, too.

They curl up, mirrored like bracketed parenthesis. It feels like when they make music together, notes falling softly into place, or when they sit on the bank of the river, watching Alba City pass them by. Like being part of something bigger than them, a web of strings all around them. Tuesday wants to pull each one and see what makes them shake. She feels the ones tied to her, wonders what plucking them will do, who will hear.

It feels like forever ago that a girl stood on a bridge and sang her heart. Tuesday was the only one who stopped, the only one who felt it in her heart. They’re tied. That’s the only explanation. They’re tied together, hearts vibrating the same tune. Tuesday can only ever hope to capture it, to share it with those around them.

She’s vibrating now, heart too swollen to fit inside her chest. The universe feels stuffed inside her ribs, like each breath is full of stardust. Tuesday looks at Carole and wonders if she feels the same. 

Their eyes meet and she knows she does with the sudden clarity of a lens clicking into place. Carefully, Tuesday takes Carole’s hand and raises it to press against her chest, above her heart.

There are no words. They don’t need them. The music is how they hear each other. Tuesday’s veins thrum with it, her heart sings with it, and Carole’s hand presses close against each thud against her palm.

“Tues…”

Carole is the one to move, shifting closer. There’s hardly any space between them and Tuesday’s hit with the memory of Marie asking if either of them had boyfriends or girlfriends. No, she thinks, just Carole. It’s always been Carole.

Their lips meet tentatively, whispering in a barely-there brush. Carole’s hand presses hard against Tuesday’s heart and Carole squeezes her fingers over it. They try again, Tuesday tilting her head so their noses don’t bump.

She’s never kissed anyone before – never expected it to feel so tender and soft, like a butterfly’s wings. Carole presses in further with a soft appreciative noise and Tuesday meets her halfway. Their legs tangle beneath the covers, and Tuesday hooks her free hand behind Carole’s neck to hold her close.

When they part, Tuesday mourns the loss. Carole presses another kiss to the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Tuesday wants to wrap herself in Carole’s arms forever, wants to feel this safe and loved always. She lifts Carole’s hand to kiss her palm, and squeezes it tight. She hopes her feelings are reciprocated, knows when their eyes meet that they are.

They’ve always been on the same frequency.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/countpaperstars) | [writing blog](http://countingpaperstars.tumblr.com) | [tumblr](http://thenameisfame.tumblr.com)


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